Mercy Me
by Ms. Unlucky
Summary: One-shot, Dean/Lucifer. "The Bible," Lucifer hisses. "The only thing that disgusts me more than the lies you've all spun, is how gullible those sheep are." - The Morning Star escapes the Cage to reunite with the real reason he Fell.


**Author's Stuff ~** Okay, so I have _no idea_ where this came from. o.e I made it in, like, fifteen minutes tops. :/ So uhh, as for those waiting on my Angel!Dean fic to be updated, no fears, i'm still working on it. ^.~

**Warnings ~** Grammar kind of sucks, but i'm working on other stories and this wasn't really planned so... *Shrugs* I'm lazy, sue me.

**Side note ~** Half way through this fic I started thinking about a little something that came to me when I was twelve. How do we _know_ Lucifer was the bad guy in the whole situation of his Fall? I mean, the Bible is a _one sided story_. So... Yeah. That's _kinda_ where some of this came from. I tried to go deeper with that idea in mind, but I ended up having giant ass paragraphs and I really need to finish my other stories so I just said _fuck it_ and made it _this_ instead. XD Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Mercy Me<strong>

Lucifer feels the salty breeze spray gently over what little of his–Nick's–skin is exposed. It's been a long, _long_ time since he's felt the sensations only Earth can bring about, and he wishes he could be here–on the black, volcanic rock overlooking the ocean–on different circumstances.

He'll have to remember to bring his special Angel here one day, when they're _both_ free of their torment; free from their entrapment.

A fluttering of wings brings Lucifer's attention to his left–across a small break in the rock, giving him and his _Brothers_ space from each other.

He thinks it's for the best, he isn't exactly known for keeping his temper in check.

"Lucifer," a tall, dark skinned man inquires–voice stoic as ever.

"Michael," he greets in return, practically spitting the name. "Zachariah, Haniel." They at least have the courtesy to look scared out of their minds.

"How–how did you escape from the Cage? The Seals, they haven't been disturbed, they haven't been _touched!_" Haniel's words tremble almost as badly as her Grace within her small, petit Vessel. Lucifer smirks, she's no different than when he'd left. But Lucifer hadn't expected her to be–hadn't expected any of them to change.

"Haniel, my dear, I think you've been paying too close attention to that little fairytale you told the humans," he lets his gaze wander over what was once his three closest siblings–lets his upper lip peal back into a proper snarl. "_The Bible,_" Lucifer hisses. "The only thing that disgusts me more than the lies you've all spun, is how gullible those _sheep_ are." Which, in all honesty, is only half true. He can't blame Homo sapiens for things they have no control over. But that doesn't sway the burning inferno of _anger_ and _resentment_ boiling within the pit of his stomach. _"Where is he?"_

"After all these years," Michael answers, finally speaking up. "And still, _he_ is the only thing that you think about. How sad. Is he the only drive you have to carry on, King of Hell?"

Lucifer glares at his older Brother. He flexes his hand, letting the familiar brisk cold of his sword slowly form into the human realm. He plans on being the only Angel to make it out of this family reunion alive.

"He's been spoiled," Zachariah blurts out, obviously desperate to curve the events to come. He wants to survive. Lucifer thinks he should have thought of that before he damned him and his Lover. "After so many years of living as a human–you couldn't have expected him to save himself for you. All Commandments have long been broken. He's lived among the Mud Monkey's long enough to damn _himself_!"

"Watch your tongue _Brother,_ do not assume I lost all awareness of my Beloved simply because I was cast to Hell." And it's true. If anyone would know of how tarnished his Angel has become, it would be he. He who watched over his Lover during his first hundred years of human life in denial, the next hundred in tears, and the next rage. "No matter what sin brandishes his Soul–his _Grace_–he is mine and mine alone."

"He is Father's," Michael snarls. "None loves him higher!"

"And where was Father's love the first time human sin was forced upon my Angel–raped? Or the second, third, _thirtieth time_ his body was forcefully soiled."

"Your blasphemy holds no bounds, I shall cast you back into the pit," Sword in hand, Michael lunges with Zachariah and Haniel closely behind. But Lucifer knew it would come to this, and he had _centuries_ in Hell to prepare for this exact moment.

Michael doesn't land a single blow–can't even manage a scratch to his Vessel–before Lucifer slams his sword through the chest of the handsome, young man his elder Brother possessed.

Lucifer takes his time with Zachariah and Haniel. They die screaming out pleas and offers of apologies; bellowing his Lover's location in a last ditched effort at survival.

It doesn't help them in the slightest, he always knew where his Angel was.

He cleans his Vessel up before appearing before his Beloved. The sleazy hotel room is no surprise–as he told his Brothers, he had kept watch over his Angel since his confinement in Hell began.

The room is lit poorly by a single lamp next to the bed farthest from door, where _he_ sits–startled–with his younger _'sibling'_; news paper in hand. In a flash, his Lover is up and wielding a firearm, pointing it at Lucifer's chest–Sam mirroring the action.

Lucifer's face softens into the sincerest smile he's bared to anyone since his Fall. "Sarriel," he begins, speaking with his true voice and sending Sam to his knees. "My beloved Patron of forgiveness and Archangel of Mercy, I've missed you."

For a moment Dean's eye's convey nothing but confusion and fear, but Lucifer cups his face with both hands and–despite the "Hunter's" struggles–kisses him fiercely, letting his own pain and misery spill into his Lover's mouth; accompanying the undying love he holds for the Angel turned mortal.

When he pulls back, ignoring Sam's shocked gaze as he withers on the floor–ears ringing still–"Dean Winchester's" gaze mirrors the Devil's own–filled with nothing but adoration and love, and a finally fulfilled void long since ripped from them.

"I've missed you as well," _Sarriel_ replies, Enochian soft but foreign on pouty lips. "My beloved Morning Star."

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><p>So I don't remember which Angel I stole Sarriel's title from (It started with a 'Z') but there actually <em>is<em> an Archangel of Mecry; Patron of Forgiveness. I just kinda thought that that would be the _perfect_ Angel to love Lucifer, the Devil. ;)


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